


Ashes

by coco_arrow



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Fire, Loneliness, Sadness, im just venting my feelings, im really not in a good place right now, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coco_arrow/pseuds/coco_arrow
Summary: They say fires are supposed to light a spark in you, but it seems my spark never even had a chance.~I wrote about loneliness.





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I wouldn't even call this a poem, because I didn't write this with the intention of making it a poem. I use many sorry excuses of similes and metaphors, but that in no way classifies this as a literary piece. These are just my thoughts on paper. If anyone I know sees this...I can't guarantee this wasn't about you.
> 
> Note: I might switch this to third person if I can figure out which POV has a more pleasing tone to it.

* * *

 

Loneliness was never an idea that touched me physically. I didn’t feel it when I’d sit alone at a bus stop downtown. I never experienced it when my feet carried me to the dim park down the street, just off the corner where the old lady never fails to trim her garden at 5pm every Tuesday. I never felt it when I would stand in a deserted hallway, lights flickering above me like _they’re_ the ones struggling to keep working.

 

Ironically, I felt loneliness in times where there was no place my body couldn’t be touching someone else’s. I felt loneliness in the numerous times I leaned my head upon my best friend’s shoulder, and the thought of another long-lost companion would worm its way into my skull. The image of gap teeth and smiling eye-wrinkles burns itself onto the back of my eyelids. I felt loneliness in the times I sat in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, scrolling through Instagram to see a picture of a friend’s smile brighter than the sun. Her head is leaning upon another’s shoulder, one that I wish was mine. From next to me, a man coughs, the rattle in his lungs representing the drum beating against my temples. The drumming makes my stomach twist, my eyes wet, and my hands shake.

 

I can be surrounded by company – friends, family, teachers, students, strangers, and yet I can’t shake the drumming out of my system. It gets louder and louder and harder and harder until my hands stop shaking and begin to grip at my scalding skin. My eyes release the tears. And my stomach pulses with the sorrowful music wandering into my ears and throughout my veins.

 

The tears that are cascading from my eyes travel to my lungs, and just like the incessant coughs from the man in the waiting room, they beat against me. I ache and my breath ceases. The fire inside of me prickles my bones, makes me slippery with sweat, burns my throat, and when the damage is done, not even my ashes seem to remain. I am hollow. I am hollow because the fire had eaten me alive and left me in the pit, nothing but a memory to be looked at and forgotten by anyone who walks past.

 

They say fires are supposed to light a spark in you, but it seems my spark never even had a chance.

 

* * *

 


End file.
